Without A Trace >> Dean Winchester

35 | The Things Unsaid

35 | The Things Unsaid

FIRST, I THROW UP on the toilet like a bottomless pit last night like a parrot on crack, not to mention there was blood in it, too. Second, my appearance the day after did not do me any favor. I look like I had just gotten run over by a truck, except that truck was probably possessed by a vengeful spirit.

Rinsing the shampoo of my hair, I massage my scalp lightly. It's like I could get my thoughts straight when I'm having a shower. A hot one, at that. The sensation of steamy water calms me. My face warms up when my mind replays Dean's kiss.

He said he liked everything about me, including my flaws. Stupid Dean, if only he could see my current battered up state. He'd change his mind and run out of the window screaming.

To top it all of, we acted normal after we kissed, as if nothing happened. Whoopie.

Stepping out of the shower, i flinch when my toes touch the chilled ceramic floor. After drying my body and hair, I slip into some boyfriend jeans and another flannel I stole from Dean, again.

I ain't guilty.

Shameful as it is, I bring the flannel to my nose, taking a deep breath of its scent. Musky and pine—just like Dean. Oh, it smelled wonderful, alright.
His scent could probably drug anyone to sleep.

I should let my hair down today. Besides, it not healthy to always tie it up. I wipe off the fogged that had coated my mirror, my hand getting a bit wet. I didn't mind. I stop to a halt when I notice the dark circles under my eyes. They're literally layered up.

I sigh. Why do I look like a Hotel Transylvania reject? I apply some concealer to the shadow of the bag that I fortunately bought a few weeks ago. The reason? I forgot.

Obviously, I'm not some kind of cosmetologist, but I know the basics. Instead of using a brush, I use my pinky to spread it all over until it looked natural.

I'm using concealer just to hide these dark circles, I was never the type of person to cake myself with three inches of makeup, and I will never be.

Raking my appearance up and down, I nod to myself. Good, I don't look like I threw up some butterflies and rainbows last night.

I take Mr. Boo with me as I stroll to the library where Sam and Dean are probably lounging around. Poor Mr. Boo, always all locked up in my room.

I whip my head around. Where the hell is Sam and Dean? They should be awake from now, it's nine in the morning.

As if on cue, Dean comes striding in like he's going to buy America. I was about to scowl at him and ask where his whereabouts was when I noticed the bottles of beer in his hand. I could already feel my eyes gleam.

"morning, Peanut. Sleep well?"

"you bet."

I could feel Dean's gaze at me, but doesn't comment. He probably doesn't understand what i had just muttered, and i don't expext him to. I wouldn't, because funnily enough, i do'nt understand myself either. Story of my life.

He settles the bottles down to the table and exaggerated a sigh, "I went on a beer run, because someone FINISHED our stash all at once within a day."